Reality?
by Jemina
Summary: For reasons unknown the Askani step in to screw with the XMen's lives again. Only this time their target is Gambit. Will he be able to make it in a world where everyone thinks he's fiction and make sense of the orders left in his head?
1. Prolog

Prolog

The Great Mother paused, for the first time in memory questioning her decision. True, it was far from the first time she had "gone rounds" with herself, but this time, rather than bring an alternative to argue, she had simply raged that she was making a mistake by "playing with these lives and screwing with 616 to no end." The mother sighed. She had been given an endless supply of proof that, once she gave up her duty as the Great Mother Askani to become a time/reality jumper, she would not only forget a great many of the decisions and orders she had had to make but would become unprofessionally attached to a single version of Earth: 616. Once she had reclaimed her identity as Rachel Grey-Summers she would for an as yet unknown reason become convinced that it was the correct, if not only path to the future they strived for.

The aged woman let her head fall forward, so that her brow rested on a seemingly frail hand with her elbow propped on the arm of her chair, still uncertain whether or not she should give the command. She sighed again, seeing no alternative, and sent the apprentice standing by the door to bring the Time Master. The man who followed the young girl looked ancient in comparison, as she was sure she did, and walked stooped nearly in half leaning heavily on the crooked walking stick clutched in both hands. His wrinkles were etched deeply, his steps halting and jerky, but his blue eyes were still clear and bright and his hands sturdy. It was he who was charged with the care and up-keep of the time and reality machines. He bowed deeply to her, an impressive feat seeing as he was already so bent with age, his right arm crossing his chest to rest on his left shoulder the right hand still clutching the walking stick.

"You summoned me?" The questing was pointless, but protocol demanded it. A slight wave of her hand and the apprentice came forward to take a small disk, the size and shape of a dime, from the table beside the Great Mother's chair and give it to the Time Master.

"Bring him to me asleep." She commanded gently, her voice just loud enough to reach the man and no louder. "Bring him to my chambers. Be discrete, and it is imperative that you do not wake him. Give me ten minutes to give him the information that he needs and then be ready to transport him to the second set of coordinates." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and he bowed once again, even lower than the first time and she was, for a moment, afraid he would fall forward on his face, before turning and leaving the audience hall.

The Great Mother dismissed the apprentice and stood, walking almost in a glide to her chambers to await the arrival of her expected guest. She took the pillows from her bed, arranged them neatly in a kind of nest on the floor, turned off the glaring lights, lit the oil lamps, set incense in the holders around the room and brought up the sound of a stream trickling over smooth rocks in its bed. All these preparations were for feeding a sleeping man information he would retain without knowing where he got it. She propped the door open and sat cross-legged on a beanbag chair against the far wall, closing her eyes to ponder what exactly she was going to tell him. Time flew and at the same time crawled as she waited for the transfer to be made and her guest to arrive. Finally the sound of light steps echoing down the marble hall penetrated her shallow meditation and she opened her eyes in time to see her guest levitated into the room by one of the telekinetic sisters.

"Will you be needing any assistance?" The question was barely a breath; the Mother simply shook her head. The low ranking sister bowed deeply as the Time Master had done and exited, closing the door behind her.

The Great Mother looked down at the sleeping man and smiled a little. Had he woken up his eyes would have given away the fact that he was one of the great heroes that people swore by and told stories about. Even at her age, she remembered this man from her childhood, before she had come to the Askani. He had always been good for a laugh or a playmate if he wasn't too busy. She sighed at the memories of a time long past and sank to her knees beside the "nest".

She pitched her voice to a low murmur and spoke smoothly and fluidly. "I know this will be disorienting and you will hate me when you discover that I was the one that did this to you but, I assure you, it is necessary. You must win her heart, but to do that you must start in the place where she is isolated, alone, and deprived of all but a single friend. Convince that friend of who you are for she will be an ally that you cannot afford to be without. The circumstances of their presence in the reality you are about to enter are far too complicated to attempt to explain, but it is where you must start. Gain the girl's trust." She slipped a brief image of the girl into his dream. "And then her heart. You need each other and time needs the two of you. You will have all you require: money, identity, all the basics required by law. The last gift I can give you is the gift of sight, you will understand what I mean when it is used even without your knowledge. It will aid you in finding the girl and her friend, whom you already know though, you will be surprised at who it is. Gods speed and good luck, more than you know rests on you and what happens with this mission, even if you do go to it unwillingly." She leaned forward to gently kiss his forehead, effectively cementing the "orders" in place as she slipped a folded piece of paper into his pocket. The Sister who had dropped him off, came to take him back to the Time Master for his second transportation through time and reality to a world he would never forgive her for sending him to. Even she was uncertain what would happen to him in a reality that was a mundane as could be.

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Please reveiw. Any comments welcome.


	2. Awakening

Awakening

Gambit groaned as the light hit his eyes, startling him to wakefulness. It took a moment of lying still, silently cursing the sun, for him to remember that his room faced south with his bed facing away from the window…the sun should not be able to shine directly on his face to wake him up. He lay there for a moment longer, trying to throw his empathy out to see whom, if anyone was in the room with him. At first, all that happened was his head started to spin and he felt more than a little queasy, but he forced himself to do it, and eventually it started to work. His stomach settled and his mind steadied but maintained a dull throb, like war drums sending him to battle. The room was empty, and he could not sense anyone in the adjoining room either. He sat up and looked around slowly, taking in every detail his eyes could see.

The room was painted a soft cream color; the large window was open with gauze like curtains pulled back and blowing in a slight breeze. He could tell he was not on the ground floor because all that was visible through the window was sky. The bed in which he lay was a soft California king, the mattress over-stuffed, the pillows and comforter down, all a rich emerald color. A bedside table to his left held a lamp and a clock telling him it was just after eight p.m. Paintings hung on the walls and a door opened off the wall adjacent to and opposite the bed. A tall armoire stood beside the door adjacent to the bed with decent sized dresser on one side and a chair on the other.

Gambit rolled out of bed, realizing he hadn't even been under the blanket, and couldn't help but smile at the softness of the carpet beneath his feet. _Remy though' 'e wa' pas' de poin' in 'is life where 'e wo'e up in strange 'otels. Mais dis is def'netly one of de betta ones 'e's been in. _A glance out the window as he passed it showed a balcony overlooking the sea with the sun setting on the horizon. He wasn't even on the right side of the country! A quick pass through the other rooms showed that the door opposite the bed led to a large sitting room with a couch, two chairs, a table and a large television set, complete with a VCR, DVD, and internet access. Whether or not they were paid for and hooked up he had no clue, but they were there. Connected to the sitting room was a kitchen with a full-sized fridge, stove, microwave, sink and another table, this one with chairs. Tucked in the corner of the sitting room was a bar, and a quick look showed it was fully stocked and Gambit poured himself a drink. The door adjacent to the bed led to a large bathroom with a tub big enough to be a Jacuzzi and a separate shower. The stamp on the complementary shampoo told him where he was staying: the Hotel Del Coronado.

He tossed back the last of his drink and went back to the bedroom to explore the armoire and drawers. The armoire was full of black pants, and shirts, along with his trench coats, both the black and brown. Along the bottom were his shoes, his boots and a few pairs of tennis shoes, even, much to his amusement, a pair of sandals. The drawers were full of his cloths as well. One of the three drawers was devoted strictly to surf shorts, one to socks and underwear, and one to what he deemed "miscellaneous". On top of the dresser was a wallet, his wallet. He opened the wallet and scanned the contents— everything he'd had when he went to bed the night before: two credit cards, fifty dollars cash, a bank card, insurance cards (both medical and auto), social security card and drivers license. There was only one problem with the last two…they belonged to a Remy Etienne, but it was his picture on the license. He studied it for a minute. The information was correct for him, the picture was his—yet, instead of his last name, it had his middle name.

Gambit slipped the wallet into his pocket and his hand brushed a folded piece of paper. Curious, he pulled it out. Unfolding it slowly, he read the message written in strange letters:

Gambit,

I know that this will come as a shock to you, but you are not in any danger. In fact, you are probably as far from danger as you could ever be. You will not want to accept where you are, but in time you will come to terms with it. We will be watching and when the time comes, when you have done what is needed, we will send you home. For now, try to enjoy your forced vacation. The room, and everything in it, is paid for and will continue to be and regular deposits will be made into your bank account. The codes and such are all the same as you had, and you should not run out of funds.

I do apologize, but it is my job. Don't take it out on the me you know…she did argue in your favor, but in the end it was my decision and the only one I could make

Sincerely,

The Great Mother Askani

The Great Mother Askani

Gambit crumpled the paper in his fist, scowling. "Rachel, Remy shoul' 'ave known! On'y de Askani pluck people ou' o' dere beds in de dead o' nigh' wit'ou' any 'splanaion!" He threw the wadded paper against the far wall and glared at it where it lay for a few moments before slowly smiling. He could use the fun time. A glance at the clock and he saw it had taken just over fifteen minutes for him to make his inspection. Deciding to gamble, he grabbed a trench coat from the closet and headed out the door. Rachel had done a decent job making sure he was properly stocked, but she had forgotten a key item…a surfboard; he'd deal with the lack of transportation later.

As he passed the desk in the lobby, he asked the evening manager if he knew of a surf shop that would be open and was promptly given a list of them and their locations. He strolled down the street in no hurry, taking in the sights and checking out the girls. Inspecting his options was normal. He looked at every girl he walked past out of habit really, but this time it felt more like he was actually looking for someone, but he didn't know whom. The feeling didn't fade, but faded into the background as he entered a promising looking shop and began to browse. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, a plain white surfboard and the proper paints to paint on it and not have the design be worn off in the water. He paid with the bankcard and nearly whistled when he saw the amount of money the receipt said he still had in his account. _Def'netly de kin' o' pocke' da' Remy woul' love t' pick back 'ome back in de ol' days,_ he thought laughing as he left the store to return to his hotel. The next several hours were spent painting a large black spade, often considered as much his trademark as his cards, on the bottom and another on the top.

He propped the finished board in the corner and called the front desk to see if they'd send up a fan. Once the fan arrived, he aimed it at the painted surfboard to help it dry and insure it would be dry and ready to ride in the morning. Despite having only been awake for a couple of hours, Gambit was suddenly exhausted and literally fell into bed. He was asleep before he had a chance to pull the blankets up over himself.

The next morning he woke more from hunger than anything else. He put a pillow over his face and tried to ignore his stomach, but it didn't work. Finally, groaning with frustration, he threw the pillow on the floor and sat up, wondering whether to call room service or explore the fridge. Smirking, he grabbed the phone. Why work more than he had to, and ordered bacon, eggs, hash browns, and strong black coffee. Checking the paint on the surfboard, he was glad to see his idea with the fan had worked and the paint was dry. He'd hit the beach after breakfast and a shower. His food arrived and he smiled at the girl that delivered it, flirting automatically, his mind more on the food than anything else. He tipped her and closed the door, lounging on the couch as he ate and completely ignoring the table that was just a few paces away.

His meal complete, he left the dishes on the table and went to take his shower. Drying his hair, Gambit chuckled, the waves out there weren't much, but they'd have to do. His surf shorts were black and he didn't bother to grab a towel as he left the room, surfboard tucked safely under his arm. Just a glance at the beach directly outside the hotel told him that wasn't where he wanted to be, too many stuffy tourists just sitting on blankets on the sand. He knew the type, they wouldn't appreciate his surfing ruining their "family fun" and "perfect view". Turning right, he walked up the beach until he was immersed in the crowed of "normal beach goers" and wouldn't have to worry about people scowling at him for nothing more than having a good time.

Noting the number of children splashing in the waves, he backtracked a little so that he wouldn't have to worry about hitting one of them as he surfed. The day was perfect, small pearly white clouds dotted a beautifully blue sky, the waves were large enough to ride, though not big enough to curl and form tunnels, and the temperature was perfect. He smiled again as he bent to fasten the safety cord around his ankle and picked the board back up before running into the water. He went under the majority of the waves, waiting nearly fifteen minutes for the "perfect" one, one that he could ride without feeling ridiculous and would give him a thrill as he rode. As the wave shrunk the closer it got to shore, he sat, turning the board so he could head back out. A voice intruded on his thoughts, one he could have sworn he'd heard before but couldn't quite place, and the name they were calling was completely alien to him. He worked his way back out, letting half his attention stay on the feminine voice, the other half on getting to the proper place to catch the next wave.

"Damn-it Damia!" the girl yelled, changing to a different name. "Don't tell me you fell asleep on that damn thing!" Looking forward and to his left, he saw a girl out past where the waves were swelling, lying face down on a body board. She drifted down the coast toward Mexico and didn't move. She probably was asleep. It was a miracle she'd stayed on the board as long as she had! _Remy'll jus' 'ave t' fix da',_ he thought evilly and slid off the board to swim out to her, dragging the board behind him.

He paused beside her just long enough to note that she didn't have the safety cord attached to her wrist or ankle before reaching out and flipping her board over. He smiled but stopped just short of laughing out right, floating with one arm on his surfboard and the other on her body board, as she came up gasping for air, ready to fight. Treading water, she pushed her hair out of her face and wiped it clean of salt water before glaring at him. Meeting her icy stare, even as it softened was like a kick to the gut. The image The Great Mother Askani had implanted in his subconscious and sealed there floated before his eyes and over lapped the girl in front of him perfectly. It was her. Her eyes burned identical to his and he could feel the anger resonating off her. Her long red hair floated on the water and her face seemed to have been carved painstakingly by one of the legendary sculptors then painted with the same perfection, her skin pale, her lips red and the slightest color in her cheeks from rage. She was who he'd been looking for the day before without realizing it, all because of the Askani leader. He watched her look fade from one of anger to one of wonder and her eyes go from red on black to electric blue as the stared at each other, his trademark smile still in place out of habit. Finally, he managed to force himself to speak.

"Remy tink yo' frien' i' callin' yo'." He jerked his head toward the girl who stood on the beach, now laughing hysterically. The girl nodded and he gave her back her body board, following her to the beach.

"Jazz you little bitch!" The girl, Damia he assumed, yelled. "You just stood there and watched him didn't you?"

The name slammed into place where Gambit had heard the voice before. He took a good look at the girl and his jaw dropped. "_Jazz!_" he gasped in disbelief.

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Please reveiw. Any comments welcome.


End file.
